Artwork credit: fauxfaerie
February 25, 2022
Winter in Appalachia hasn’t been that fierce this year. We’re talking more like an Ice-Princess season rather than how I prefer my winters: domineering Ice Queen draped in layers of white and on a throne of silver-barked, naked maples, oaks, and poplars.
We’ve had some snow, allowing me to tuck myself away and work on my next book, one I hope will be the follow-up to my debut novel, Strange Attractors (coming August 2022). During winter, I love snuggling up, preferably beside a roaring fire, and writing while the winds howl like an infuriated queen.
Currently, though, the Appalachian Ice Queen is thawing.
As I walked around the yard this morning, I spotted the tender shoots of daffodils pushing their way through the layers of fallen leaves and scattered limbs. This time of year, the Appalachian Ice Queen begins softening, allowing tender morsels to emerge from her hard-packed surface. The mosses, an unripened lime color throughout winter, become vibrant as royal emeralds.
Soon, daffodils will cover the yard and forsythia shrubs will bloom, brightening my part of the world in citrines, topaz, and tourmaline. Crocuses will scatter across the jade grasses like precious amethyst.
Spring arrives soon, thawing out the Appalachian Ice Queen. As each day passes, she becomes softer, spongier, and she will smell intoxicatingly fragrant. I’ll miss her frosty ways. Still, a thawed queen is more welcoming, allowing me to sink into her verdant folds.
As soon as my Appalachian Queen warms up to me, I’ll move my writing from beside the fireplace to the deck—a raised dais that gives me the perfect view of my green, velvety world.